


honor your ghosts

by sparkly_seagull



Series: Jangobi Week (2021) [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: I can't keep apologizing for her and I don't want to, Kid Fic, Korkie Kryze is a Kenobi, M/M, Major Character Death is not something to worry about tbh, Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), Satine Kryze bashing, Undercover, but not in the way you are thinking, currently patching plot holes with flex tape, its a spooky place, vaguely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29170917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkly_seagull/pseuds/sparkly_seagull
Summary: Day 3: UndercoverObi-Wan found himself standing in front of an audience as the newly holistic Mandalorian raised her to point blaster at his helmeted head. Korkie made a move to squirm under the heavy cloak draped across the two of them that obscured the child completely from view. Obi-Wan did not move, only sending a wash of comfort at him through the force, his own skin itching under the armor of a dead man."Who are you?" The Mandalorian repeated her question cold and hard, emphasizing that he was not welcome even under the guise of one of their one.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Korkie Kryze
Series: Jangobi Week (2021) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137158
Comments: 59
Kudos: 371





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> the politics of star wars are so INTERESTING so I am going to once again propose another ridiculously self indulgent AU.

Something was decidedly wrong with Mandalore, and it wasn’t what Obi-Wan had originally thought. The Duchess Kryze had told the Jedi Council that an insurrection was planning to rise against her, a coup that would tear apart the whole of the Mandalore system and let their society dissolve into chaos. She frequented both Coruscant and the Senate, making her presence known to the Jedi by way of the knights stationed as guards to protect her constantly endangered life. The Council became familiar with her and her pacifistic ideals, always willing to spare a knight or two to thwart any assassin attempts. So when she had gone before the Jedi Council and asked them to help her deescalate the situation on Mandalore, they had readily agreed.

And with that promise extracted, Duchess Kryze, soon to be the Ruler of all of Mandalore, had smuggly strolled out of the hallowed halls of the Jedi Temple, her intricate robes trailing behind her. Obi-Wan had watched her leave, watching from where he stood hidden in the shadows, his hood obscuring his face. How the Council was going to respond to her request was a mystery to him, but he wondered what lengths they were willing to go to for a Duchess who only spoke of pacifism and peace when there were eyes and ears around. He knew little of her politics besides what boasts she made, but he had doubts about her words of peace having translation into her actions. Not much news ever came out of the Mandalore sector, all eleven planets and moons seemed to be nothing more than points on a map. Not every culture was willing to broadcast their trials and tribulations through the Holo Net, but the complete lack of information save the transmission Obi-Wan had gotten a mere week ago made it all the more suspicious.

The transmission hadn’t been meant for him, but Dex had given him his old comm when he’d gotten a new one. Obi-Wan had picked up, planning to take the message to Dex when he finally had the time to visit his friend’s diner. The transmission had consisted of scratchy voices, likely using an old and unregulated comm unit, ordering a large amount of blasters and bombs. Obi-Wan had met Dex when he was still the biggest arms dealer on this side of the Galaxy, but he’d moved on from dealing ammo to dealing information. Obi-Wan hated to break the inconvenient news considering all he got in return was an empathetic “  !” and was then hung up on.

Dex had been worried, securing more than half of the order in less than ten minutes since he’d first heard it. He muttered to himself, all six of his arms stacking boxes in the back room of the diner while Obi-Wan sipped on his fruity drink and watched with mild concern.

“Dex,” He tried. “We don’t even know who asked for it, let alone where they are.”

Dex frowned. “You didn’t trace the signal? Are you sure there wasn’t a contact name or a caller ID?”

Obi-Wan sighed. They’d already gone through this two times. “I tried to trace the signal, but I think the point of them using the old unit to communicate is so that they wouldn’t be tracked. And no, the only ID I saw was ‘No Caller ID’.”

Dex’s frown deepened even more. “I don’t even know if Jaster is still around anymore, but if that was him, he’s in danger.”

“Who’s Jaster?”

Dex shook his head. “Don’t talk about him unless you want to get targeted. There’s something fishy happening with that Duchess and her politics.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, happy that someone was finally voicing the concerns that had been building in him since Kryze had first stepped foot on Coruscant. He’d tracked her through the Senate, around the expensive top level restaurants of Coruscant while she ate meals worth small ships with delegates from other sectors, and back to the docking bay where her ship lay in wait. 

He’d only recently been knighted, giving him the time to follow leads and bad feelings about the Duchess. When Master Jinn had discovered Obi-Wan’s wish to be a Jedi Shadow, he’d sped up their training, wanting nothing to do with the stakeouts and sneaking that took up Obi-Wan’s day to day activities. And when his padawan braid had been cut, Obi-Wan did what Shadows did best, he disappeared. No missions had been assigned to him yet, so Obi-Wan took the time to hone his skills and stay off the Council’s radar. He had no wish to be thrown immediately into the wild fringes of space on a man hunt for a ghost like the only other Shadow his age, Quinlan Vos, had been. So instead, Obi-Wan had infiltrated the Senate, playing politics with the rest of the Senators as he moved from pretending to be an assistant to a new Representative, to finally being the Senator of Stewjon for a day when the man had been out with a cold. It wasn’t hard to fool the politicians, they fell to his force suggestions and negotiating skills like flies.

Dex glanced between the boxes of explosives and Obi-Wan. “My friend … I might need your help.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward on his seat. “Yes?”

“You are one of the Spy Jedi right?”

“That is part of what I do, yes.”

Dex glanced back to the boxes. “That Duchess woman, she wants Jedi intervention on Mandalore, right?”

“ ... yes.” Obi-Wan was getting worried about the conclusion Dex was trying to lead him to. “Dex, I’m going to need you to talk to me. Spit it out.”

“I need you to get that job. Get assigned to Mandalore. I know you’ve studied Mando’a, you’d be the best bet for the Order. Take that mission and take these with you. Jaster needs my help, and you’re the best bet I have.” He gestured to the pile of boxes.

Obi-Wan blinked once, then twice. “I-” He started. “I work for the Jedi Order, I’m not sure if that would work. It’s a conflict of interest.”

“Since when have you cared for the Order? Haven’t they abandoned you multiple times? You’re only still part of it because you know no other way of life.”

Obi-Wan froze at the words. Dex was right and it was a punch to the gut, but he never said it aloud before. If he was playing dirty and trying to reconfigure Obi-Wan’s allegiance to the Order, then he was more than worried about this ‘Jaster’ character. Obi-Wan knew that while Dex was right, he didn’t know the half of it. Obi-Wan had only stayed so long with the order because it was his home, they were his family, and he had no wish to stray from the lightside of the force.

“Dex-” He finally said. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I know you have strong morals, please, you’ve got to see what they are doing on Mandalore. Something is happening and you’ve got an opportunity and an excuse. Please. Just get these supplies to them.”

  
  


\---

And that was how Obi-Wan found himself lying sprawled out on the ground, covered in soot from the Jedi contracted fighter ship with smoke curling into the air thanks to the engine and all the shots it had sustained. He lay in the shadow of the wreckage, having stumbled out of the ship to clear his head of the smoke pluming inside and out. Obi-Wan stared up with glassy eyes at Mandalore’s sky, wondering if he should move before the fire got any closer to the boxes upon boxes of ammo and explosives that he hadn’t managed to airdrop to the location Dex had hesitantly given him the coordinates too. The other fighter ships had come out of nowhere, rising from the clouds to shoot at him with no mercy or forgiveness. Obi-Wan had barely had the chance to catch a good glimpse of the ships before he was hurtling towards the ground in a ship that was never going to be flying anywhere ever again.

He opened his eyes again, wondering when they had closed and saw that a light drizzle of rain was beginning to fall. Obi-Wan let his mind drift away and contemplate what to do next. The symbol on the fighter crafts that had attacked him looked awfully familiar and as he watched them circle overhead, he tried to connect the dots. The information should have been easy to conjure up, but with the head injury he was sure had sustained, nothing stuck out to him.

Obi-Wan rolled to the side and began the tedious process of standing up. He limped back into the steaming ship, thankful that the rain above seemed to be putting out any fires that hadn’t already burned themselves out. The boxes from Dex stilled seemed to be in good enough shape, their locks still secure and the metal boxes only slightly dented. Obi-Wan nodded in satisfaction and slowly made his way to the only other room besides the ‘fresher and the loading bay, the cockpit. The co-pilot's seat was still reclined into the form of his half made bed, but what he was really looking for was thrown against the counsel thanks to the sudden change in gravity as the ship had begun its crash landing.

He dug through the pack, groping for one of the batca packets he was sure he had packed. He’d seen in his reflection in the shattered screen of the counsel and the bloody gash at the edge of his hairline. He would heal quickly with his Jedi enhanced healing factor and the only force healing trick he knew. He could only speed up the process of healing on his own minor wounds, but with the batca he was now smearing through the trickles of blood, it would hopefully be even faster.

Obi-Wan shouldered the bag containing a spare change of clothes, two blasters, other miscellaneous items, and the data chip gifted to him by Ki-Adi-Mundi, the only Jedi to know that it was him who had undertaken the mission. Master Mundi had told him very little, he himself only knew the bare minimum of information from the avoidant Duchess. It had seemed standard enough procedure by the Council of First Knowledge. Obi-Wan had obsessed over the data chip and the only clear piece of knowledge it obtained. He was to infiltrate the group known as the ‘Old Mandalorians’, gain their trust and secrets, before ratting them out to Kryze. Obi-Wan had come to the conclusion that the entire mission was a set up as soon as it struck him that the symbol on the side of the ships that shot him down was that of the New Mandalorians. Kryze and her lackeys had shot him out of the sky.

He looked up through the shattered windshield as the sound of ships came closer. He mentally cursed, turning back to the damaged counsel in a bid to wipe it completely. He wouldn’t be back for the ship, that much was clear. There would be no traces to who he was or where he came from. Especially not since the allies he’d been hesitant to trust or give allegiance to had shot at him without hesitation. Dex had been right, something was wrong on Mandalore, and it started and ended with the Duchess.

The fighter ships came to a stop, the three of them landing in a semi circle around Obi-Wan’s pile of parts. He pulled the voice modulating and atmosphere altering mask over his face, the mask of a Shadow. It was a flat face plate reminiscent of those worn by the Temple Guards. The only true similarity was the shape of the eyes, a Shadows mask was all black with white eyes. Few Jedi knew much of the Shadows and their work, their mere existence was a folktale told to the children in the creche. No one would be able to make the connection to the mask, and that was if they lived long enough to tell the story of their interaction with Obi-Wan. 

He stalked towards the ship, his lightsaber held tightly in the hand hidden by the sleeves of his simple gray robes. One of the starfighter’s hatch opened, a man in fighter pilot gear emerged and jumped to the ground. He walked forward to meet Obi-Wan, his steps almost reminiscent of a prowl.

“You are still alive.” He remarked in surprise, his hand sitting on the blaster attached to his leg.

“And so are you.” Obi-Wan echoed, most of his attention turned to the fourth ship that had just landed behind the rest. It wasn’t even a ship Obi-Wan noticed. It was a heavily dented land speeder, one that looked like it was a miracle to even be running. He could barely make out the driver, swathed in torn and tattered gray fabric with a mask covering the lower half of their face and a pair of large goggles giving nothing away of their features. Obi-Wan looked back to the pilot who’d taken the opportunity to raise his blaster at Obi-Wan.

“Who are you and what is your business? Are you collaborating with the insurrectionists?” He spat out. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow he remembered the man couldn’t see. After a beat of silence, the man’s finger twitched on the trigger. “Talk now, traitor.”

“Traitor?”

“You are a coward, not even showing your face. Have no fear, I’ll be ripping that mask off your face when we take you in for mug shots, that is if I don’t shoot you first.” The man looked to be brimming with anger, a tremor traveling down his arm and a vein popping on his forehead. He seemed irregularly upset by Obi-Wan’s face being obscured.

Obi-Wan shook his head slightly. The man’s words seemed unreasonable. Maybe it was the possible concussion from the head injury still stitching itself back together, but wasn’t one of the classic symbols of the Mandalorians their signature t-visored helmets? Why would a Mandalorian have anything against that? And Obi-Wan looked nothing like a Mandalorian, what could he possibly be thinking? “I’m not sure what you mean.”

The pilot opened his mouth and narrowed his eyes, but no coherent words left his mouth. Instead, he made a choked off gurgling noise and his eyes went wide. He swayed for a hesitant moment before crumbling to the ground. Obi-Wan watched his collapse, noting the blaster shot marking the back of his head with a red stain. When the blood and brains began to leak out in full, seeping into the ground, Obi-Wan shook himself out of his shock and looked up. Where had that shot come from? Why hadn’t he heard it?

“You!” Shouted someone angrily, one of the other two pilots jumping from their craft. They met a similar fate to their first comrade, their body hitting the ground with a shot to the head. This time Obi-Wan heard the shot, it came from the land speeder that had pulled up mere moments ago. He heard the second shot as well, this one different from the first, likely a different blaster, along with the shout of pain. Obi-Wan sprinted forward, passing the second pilot’s still warm corpse as he came into the midst of a battle between the third pilot and the mysterious shooter.

The third pilot tackled the shooter to the ground, the both of them struggling against one another with a vicious and deadly intensity. Obi-Wan closed it, watching as the pilot quickly gained the upper hand, likely due to the rapidly bleeding wound gushing from the shooter’s leg. So that’s what the second shot he’d heard had been.

Without a second of hesitation, Obi-Wan lunged forward, wrestling the pilot away from her quarry and shoving her away. She landed near her thrown blaster and groped for it with harsh breaths. Obi-Wan moved closer, but stopped when she glared at him, blaster raised once more.

“I won’t miss,” She warned, scooting closer and closer to the fighter ship sitting empty behind her, finally scrabbling to stand up when she judged the distance safe enough.

“Neither will I.”

“No,” Croaked the shooter, heaving as they leaned against the side of the land speeder. Their voice was rough and cracked, giving Obi-Wan no clue to any part of their true identity. “Killing her does nothing. The signal has already been sent. They are already alerted to our location.” They breathed in raggedly. “Spare her, we must leave.” Apparently Obi-Wan did have a ride away from the wreckage and dead bodies.

The pilot’s eyes widened before a smug smile replaced her expression of shock at the shooter’s words. “In less than ten minutes you’ll be completely surrounded. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. You-”

Obi-Wan stepped forward quickly, not giving her a chance to move out of his reach, and placed his palm on her forehead. “There is nothing here, this sector is clear of signs of life. You saw no one on your patrol. You found a wreckage but no survivors.”

Her eyes glazed over as the force suggestion took it’s heavy hold. “There is nothing here, this sector is clear of signs of life. I saw no one on your patrol. I found a wreckage but no survivors.” She stumbled slightly, almost losing her balance as the words wove themselves into her mind. Obi-Wan knew it was an overkill tactic putting so much power into one suggestion, but he needed to buy time, no matter how much of his own energy it drained.

He left the dazed pilot standing in confusion under the wing of her fighter pilot and he quickly made his way over to his mysterious ally, and their gaping leg wound. They were breathing in rapid bursts now, ones that sounded strained and broken.

Obi-Wan gently lifted them, eliciting a pained cry, and placed them into the passenger's seat of the land speeder. “May I drive?” He asked slowly.

“Please.” The affirmative came out as a grunt.

Obi-Wan turned the keys already in the ignition and looked over to his side, where his savior was pulling off their facial coverings. He began to pull away from the scene before making a sweeping turn and speeding off the opposite direction. There was a wooded area in the distance, one they could take more cover in when the backup finally arrived.

“Where to?” He asked over the wind, increasing the land speeder’s speed until it had reached its maximum. They’d be in the woods in another few minutes and safely out of sight.

“My baby,” Obi-Wan turned to look at his passenger in confusion, coming face to face with a ashened faced woman. Her hair was a color similar to his, though more red in its hue. Her eyes were grey and angry red scratches covered the left one, the skin swelling up in response.

“Where?”

“Keep going,” she croaked, pointing at a path into the woods Obi-Wan hadn’t seen before. “There’s a village another sector over, we should have enough fuel to make it. I left him there with the innkeeper.” She sounded pained, and Obi-Wan could feel her emotional turmoil smothered out with a steely resolve in the force. It swirled around her uncertainty and Obi-Wan got the distinct impression she knew something he needed to know.

“What’s your name?” He asked, pulling the bag still slung over his shoulders off, dumping it into her lap, as he retrieved the canteen of fresh water. She looked human, she could probably drink it.

The woman took the canteen into her hands greedily, unscrewing the top and raising it her lips immediately. Her relief was evident and tangent as she swallowed gulp after gulp, finally cutting herself off. “Can I- is this all for me?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan could survive longer than the average non-force sensitive without things such as food, water, or sleep. Besides, if he needed water, it was an incentive to make it to the village and the woman’s child as quickly as possible.

“Thank you,” She took another sip before speaking in a whisper. “My name is Isla Kryze.”

Obi-Wan’s head whipped around as he stared at her, trying to reconcile her face with the Duchess’s. She stared back at him blankly.

“I can’t tell what you are thinking,” She said gently, like one wrong move would turn Obi-Wan against her. “Unless you want to talk-”

Obi-Wan peeled off his mask, having forgotten it was there completely. Isla blinked at him, a small smile crossing her face.

“You look like me … are you Stewjoni as well?”

Obi-Wan turned his eyes back to the road with a nod. “Yes, are you not a Mandalorian?”

She sighed. “My husband was, so that made me one as well. I never did get around to training with  or the armor. It was one thing after another and now here we are.” She gestured to the tall trees and long shadows of the path they traveled. Obi-Wan maneuvered around roots that poked too far above the surface as Isla continued. “What’s your name?”

“Ben,” He responded on impulse, giving out the nickname that he used in any less than safe situation.

“That’s not it,” Isla said teasingly, a quiet laugh catching on the edge of her lips.

“Obi-Wan,” He spoke after a second. Isla had trusted him, he had the feeling he could trust her in return.

“Last name?”

“Do you happen to know the Kenobi family?”

Isla shook her head before folding in on herself, gasping as her leg twitched. Obi-Wan cursed himself for momentarily forgetting Isla’s injury. “Are you alright?”

Isla grunted through clenched teeth, hands digging through Obi-Wan’s pack still resting on her lap. She pulled open pockets til she came across his compact first aid kit. It held a few small packets of batca and linen wraps which she gladly took, before pushing the bag to the ground and propped her bleeding leg up on it. “The adrenaline wore off,” she looked up at Obi-Wan from where her hands were slathering her leg in batca. “This will have to do until we get to the inn, take a left.”

“What?”

Isla nodded toward an outcropping of rock hidden mostly by a ticket of trees slightly different from the rest in the forest. “There’s an opening there. A cave system and road. Used for smugglers and criminals. We need to get completely out of sight.”

Obi-Wan ignored his skepticism and followed Isla’s orders, letting the force guide his steering until he came to a stop in front of an ivy covered section of rock. “I hope this is it,” He whispered to himself before hedging forward, mildly surprised when the ivy slipped over the front of the speeder and they hit nothing.

“What are you waiting for? I’m dying over here.”

Obi-Wan sighed and pushed the speeder farther along til they were completely in the dark and damp tunnel. A sliver of light made its way through the thick ivy. Obi-Wan felt a warning in the force and quickly shut off the speeder, the lights and engine dying.

“What was that for?” Isla's demand was cut off as Obi-Wan slapped his hand over her mouth.

A few heavy seconds later, the sound of fighter ships passing overhead became very apparent, their engines whining.

“Oh,” Isla breathed out, her alarm clear as day to Obi-Wan’s senses as the noise got further and further away. He started up the speeder once more, turning the lights to half power, and began to navigate through the tunnels with nothing more than suggestions from the force and Isla’s occasional “Right please.” to guide him.

Once they were deep enough into the tunnel that it would’ve taken a full day to escape by foot, Obi-Wan spoke again. “The Duchess-”

“My sister-in-law,” Isla said sadly. “The sister of my husband and the aunt of my child.”

“Oh,” He waited a second before deciding to ask a question he deemed as slightly insensitive. They had little time for chivalries. “What happened to him? You speak of him in past tense.”

Isla gave a mirthless laugh, her face not visible in the darkness of the caves. “I thought it was obvious. Do you not have a lost loved one as well?” She rested a hand against his robes, a pitying gesture that seemed genuine as it whispered of a shared pain. “That is why I wear gray. If I cannot wear the armor of my husband nor repaint it, I will find some other way to honor him.”

Obi-Wan quietly thought about the loved ones he had lost. He felt a sorrow for their passing, but the Jedi way was to release negative feelings that did not serve a purpose. He supposed life went the way it did, and he needn’t interfere with destiny. Friends were dead, but they were friends nonetheless. “I dress as a distinction,” he answered Isla’s earlier question with an apologetic air. “I do have those who have passed, but all I carry in their honor are memories.”

“We do what we can.” She breathed out, the hand on his sleeve tightened its grip.

“Isla?” She hummed in response and leaned across the space separating them, using his now multipurpose bag to help prop her up. “I need to know what is happening here.”

“Who sent you?” She sounded curious, her eyes closed as she let her head rest against his shoulder. “Was it the Jedi? I heard stories about them when I was a child. Warriors who kept the peace with their colorful swords. There were rumors that a boy had been taken by them, I was only five year-cycles old at the time.” She sucked in a deep breath as she readjusted her leg. “I think that boy was you.”

“He likely was.” Obi-Wan confirmed, pleased that he’d finally met someone from Stewjon other than the pompous Senator he’d impersonated. He’d never personally been to the planet, but the pleased aura Isla gave off as she mentioned it in brief was warm and welcoming, a home that could’ve been.

“Is that metal cylinder your sword? Your lightsaber?” Her hand lifted to hover over the lightsaber hilt and the kyber crystal humming inside, it was hanging off the strap Obi-Wan had reupholstered it in when he’d joined the wrestling match on the ground. It was hidden by his tunics and the folds they made usually, but Isla had a good eye.

“It is.”

She heaved a sigh of relief. “Good. You can help Korkie.”

“Whomst?”

Isla smiled against his shoulder, a bubbling feeling of love for whomever Korkie was tainting the force around them. She had no shields, and every change of emotion she had was clear. This wasn’t the sad and bittersweet love she’d felt when talking about her husband, this one was hopeful. “My son. He’s just had his first life day.”

“Does he have force sensitivity?” Why else would his affiliation to the Jedi be a good thing for the kid?

“If he does, it’s best he keeps it hidden. We only just managed to escape a week-cycle ago. If they found us now … well, I’d be dead even quicker.”

Her turn of phrase struck Obi-Wan as strange. Isla had now mentioned twice her imminent death. “Isla-”

“She was keeping us there. In the Palace. It’s her stronghold.” Isla took a shuddering breath in and reached up to touch her swollen eye and the scratches on it. “They tore out all of the history of the place, a renovation she called it.” She let out a disbelieving laugh. “They killed Orsen, they killed my husband. Executed for treason, for daring to communicate with the enemy. She’s got a lot of enemies, Satine does. Anyone and everyone who stands in the way of her moral war. Except it's not just morals anymore, words have turned to bloodshed.”

Isla went quiet, her words trailing off and confirming Obi-Wan’s growing suspicions. The Duchess was making an attack against the people of Mandalore. It seemed she had gotten so passionate about the righteousness of her ethics and pacifistic policies, she was willing to resort to extreme violence to get her way. A weaponless society strung together by weapons used against the original wielders, it was as ironic as it was evil. “What happened to you and Korkie?”

“I was kept in a room, surrounded by guards. More security measures were put into place when they discovered I was pregnant. I was stuck in those four walls for almost two year-cycles. It was a hospitable cell, but it was a cell.”

“Oh Isla, I am so sorry,”

“Don’t be,” She whispered. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Obi-Wan took one of his hands off the steering wheel to join it with Isla’s cold, thin one. Her hand spoke of the lack of food she had assumed her to be facing. Her skin was thin and covered in tiny scrapes. “How did you get out?”

“I used Orsen’s armor.” The confession was weighted and tinted with regret, settling heavily on Isla. “I snuck out with Korkie. I managed to get this speeder, but as you can tell, they got to it too.”

“Isla, there’s no need to regret using the armor to escape. I’m sure your husband would have wanted you to get free no matter what.”

A silent tears began to soak Obi-Wan’s tunic, their warmth and wetness streaming from Isla’s eyes. “She let me keep it to taunt me. A reminder of his ‘treason and wrongdoings’.” Her voice grew thick. “I am no true Mandalorian. I married into the family stripping this world of its heritage, I have no right to wear it.” Isla sounded truly distraught and obi-Wan greatly wished he could comfort her in a meaningful way.

“Isla I- you are a Mandalorian. By marriage to Orsen, and by blood to your son. Even if he wasn’t yours in blood and bone, you would still be Mandalorian for being his parent.” Obi-Wan reflected back on the classes he’d taken back at the Temple, all of the linguistics and syntax of Mando’a had been interesting, but his favorite thing to learn about the language was the people who spoke it and their culture. He remembered vividly their dedication to children and the records of the sheer amount of adopting they did.

“If you are a parent to a Mandalorian, then you are one yourself.”

Isla did not speak for a few minutes, letting her tears and small hiccups fill the space. “I guess, I didn’t know Orsen for more than a year when we got married. The Kryze’s weren't big on integrating me with Mandalorian culture. All I know is what was whispered to me in the dead of night, when Orsen thought I was sleeping.”

Obi-Wan hummed, a prod for her to continue and not lapse into her sorrowful silence once more.

“What is it that the Mandalorians say to their children?” She questioned. The question was open, but Obi-Wan was sure she was alluding to the adoption vow spoken in Mando’a.

“I believe it’s _ Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad _ .”

“What does it mean?”

“It translates to ‘I know your name as my child’.”

She nodded. “Good. I need you to say that to Korkie.”

Obi-Wan’s foot on the accelerator stuttered, and the speeder’s engine made a whining noise. “ ... what did you say?”

Isla raised her head from his shoulder, turning the wheel slightly to the side, correcting their path and maneuvering them through the fork in the path and down a tunnel with an incline. “He’ll be your son soon enough.”

“Isla.” Obi-Wan stressed. “I’ve known you for a few hours. You’re making a rash decision.”

“No. I’m making the safest decision.”

“I don’t even know how you found me.” Obi-Wan exclaimed. He turned to lock eyes with Isla, seeing complete trust in her gray eyes.

“I heard chatter about a drop point. I- I can’t explain how I knew, but I knew that I needed to go. That it was imperative.” Obi-Wan didn’t doubt that Isla had been pushed towards him by some unknown force, but her interpretation of it and the child she wanted to put in his possession was highly dubious.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I know you’re hurt, but you will recover. Korkie will grow up with a mother.”

She frowned. “He was never going to have a mother.” The words rang true in the force, surprising Obi-Wan as much as the opening at the end of the tunnel did.

He stopped the speeder a few lengths from the exit, turning his entire body in his seat to join both hands with Isla’s. “Please, I need you to explain.”

A relieved smile graced Isla’s lips, turning them upwards. “She was going to get rid of me as well. Satine has a plan for everything. She wanted to raise Korkie on her own, possibly as her own biological child. I was going to be removed from the picture sooner or later. That’s why I took the armor, when I realized the final countdown had begun. I wouldn’t have been so desperate otherwise.”

“What is happening?” Obi-Wan begged. Isla had made prior statements alluding to or directly referencing imminent death and it was being to scare him deeply. She had a child to take care of and injuries to tend to, as well as a dictator of a sister-in-law to avoid.

“It was poison. I should’ve guessed it, but only so much food came into that room. It’s slow acting, it will be more inconspicuous in the autopsy if they even performed one.” 

Obi-Wan absorbed the information and took in Isla’s appearance with a critical eye. Her pale skin was too translucent, her veins too prominent. The edges of her eyes were tinged with red that spoke of more than just tears or a few restless nights, a yellow hue seemed to be creeping in as well and dulling the whites of her eyes. Her hair was dull and her once lithe frame was caved in with an exhaustion that was as emotional as mental. Her life force was wavering, and if he tried to feel it more, he could sense it slowly draining. Isla was right, she was dying.

“Please say something,” She whispered, the small smile still on her gaunt face. Obi-Wan couldn’t. Isla should’ve already been dead. Days ago by the schematics of it. She had been fighting back the pain, the sickness, the exhaustion. She’d gone face to face with a fully trained officer and shot with steady hands. She’d traveled half a day to find Obi-Wan on a whim and a whisper, all in the hopes she could entrust her precious son into his care. She was doing it all to ensure Korkie’s safety and future. Isla was surviving on pure, unfiltered determination and love.

“Please.” She begged again. “I’ve seen too much, and I know you have as well. But I can’t continue on forever, not like this. I’ve come to terms with it. I’ll rejoin Orsen. We can watch Korkie grow and learn from wherever we end up. Please.” Her hands tightened their grip on Obi-Wan’s. “Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.”

He drew in a deep breath. “I promise.”

She leaned back in her seat, falling away from Obi-Wan with a relieved and slightly crazy laugh. The force swirled with increasing speed and under certainty around them, seeming to mold itself into something Obi-Wan could not recognize as Isla’s thin fingers slipped out of his warm hands. 

“Come on, let’s get moving. I want to say goodbye to my son.”

  
  
  



	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get worse and promises are made. 
> 
> aka Obi-Wan gets another few responsibilities thrust upon him with partially reckless abandon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here she is!! the Major Character Death warning screams at you now! also thanks for the comments last chapter, they were very entertaining :)

The inn wasn’t terribly far from where the tunnel system let out, but by the time they did arrive, the sun was hanging low in the sky and the shadows were growing in length. They were quite far from the forest, it was just a blip in the distance that could have easily been an imagined speck. Isla had looked back at the cluster of boulders nestled against a bigger rocky outcropping the speeder had emerged from and remarked, “You are a good luck charm! There was no one in there today.”

Obi-Wan pondered the exclamation as they approached the small village, only three buildings made up what could truly be considered a main street. Isla pointed out each of them.

“That’s the cantina. There’s the General Store, although I prefer the farmer’s market that gathers there in the morning even though I've only seen it once. And there,” She pointed to the largest of the buildings, its rocky exterior and thick wooden door matching the other structures. “That’s the inn. The rest of the town is a bit more scattered from here, farms take up quite some space after all.”

Obi-Wan pulled to the front of the inn. “Do you want to get out here?”

Isla shook her head. “Baru’s quarters are in the back, pull around.”

Obi-Wan did as told, making his way to the back of the building slowly. There were other speeders and speeder bikes parked behind the inn, with a few small ships parked a short walk away from the inn. The back of the building was more lively than the front, a few patrons sitting on a deck, watching as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, turning the clouds a vibrant pink.

Isla leaned over and pulled her mask over Obi-Wan’s face, covering his mouth and nose. She held up the thick rimmed goggles. “Do you want these?”

He grunted. “Why?”

“Your identity isn’t safe yet.” Obi-Wan huffed in amusement and let Isla screw the tight goggles over his eyes. The tint of them turned the whole world a shade of yellow. Next, she shoved everything back in his bag, resealing it carefully before handing it back to Obi-Wan. “You might want a bigger bag.”

“I’m good with this.” Obi-Wan grabbed the bag and hopped out of the speeder. He made his way to the other side, pulling Isla into his arms.

She raised an eyebrow. “Not for long.”

“Is that a threat?” They walked towards the inn, garnering a few strange glances that quickly passed. The townsfolk had either seen too much to care, or they had no wish to get involved with the injured Isla carried by a goggle wearing Obi-Wan. He must’ve looked dumb.

“Babies need a lot of supplies.” She reminded gently, letting Obi-Wan kick open the heavy door with his foot. “Baru’s door is on the left, two down.”

Baru must have heard them coming, for she opened the door right as Obi-Wan was just trying to figure out how to knock with no hands.

The door opened a sliver, and the green face of Mirialan woman popped out, her hair tangled and a wild look in her eyes. When she saw Isla, she opened the door and yanked the two of them inside.

“Isla!” She cried out, taking Isla from Obi-Wan’s arms to cradle the woman in hers. “Are you okay? I’ve been so worried. You know I'm not good with kids. Why'd you leave me for so long? Korkie finally went to sleep and I-”

She was cut off from her panicked rambles by Isla’s tired laugh. “I found him.”

“Who?” Baru’s head snapped up and she looked at Obi-Wan with wide eyes as he struggled to remove the too tight face coverings. “Oh,” She looked back at Isla, still in her arms. “Is he your brother? He kind of looks like Korkie.”

“It’s the hair,” Obi-Wan offered. The color was a traditionally Stewijoni trait.

“Right, right.” Baru nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Where is he?” Isla prompted, wiggling her way from Baru’s grasp to lean against her. A sheen of sweat covered her forehead and her eyes looked more yellow than they had before. It hadn’t been a trick of the goggles as Obi-Wan had hoped. He desperately wished he’d taken a class on force healing, it might have been able to have helped Isla. But there was no time for what ifs when Isla’s breathing was too labored and her hands were shaking an inordinate amount.

Baru led them through the small sitting room kitchen combination she’d pulled them into and through a closed door. Inside lay a bed pushed haphazardly against one wall and a crib tucked against the other. 

Obi-Wan let Isla grab his arm for support and they drew closer. Inside the crib lay a round faced toddler, a tuft of red hued hair, almost blonde, sat atop his head. He turned over in his sleep, cheek squishing against the mattress. Isla threw a hand over her mouth, muffling a choked sob threatening to be let loose completely. Obi-Wan drew her into his arms, letting her cry against his chest as she looked on at her sleeping son.

“He’s so small.” She whispered. She looked up at Obi-Wan suddenly. “Will he remember me?”

“I can ask,” Obi-Wan offered, trying to sooth her by rubbing circles onto her back with hands. He tentatively reached out with the force, prodding at Korkie’s signature. That seemed to have an effect, Korkie’s eyes blinked open and stared at Isla and Obi-Wan looming over his bed.

“Buh?” He asked, his pudgy hands reaching up to make grabbing motions at Isla. She immediately leaned forward, scooping Korkie into her arms.

“Hello Korkie,” She let her forehead come to rest against Korkie’s as the toddler made moves to tangle his fingers in her hair.

Obi-Wan watched the interaction, feeling like an intruder. He tried to fulfill Isla’s request once more, nudging at Korkie with his mind. Korkie’s eyes locked with his immediately and a force signature he hadn’t noticed the child harboring before bloomed out into the space between them.

Isla leaned closer to Obi-Wan, her legs not being able to support her completely. Obi-Wan took the opportunity to move them over to the bed. “Is he?”

“He is force sensitive.” Obi-Wan felt Korkie poke at his force signature, trying to find the comfort Obi-Wan had been subconsciously feeding to Isla the moment they’d entered the room. “Not enough to have been scouted out directly by the Order, you would’ve needed to confirm it yourself and bring him to one of our Temples.”

“I suspected,” She whispered, caressing Korkie’s cheek and running her fingers through his hair. “I figured he hid it away to protect us.”

Obi-Wan nodded. It was probably true. Korkie was reaching out to his Mother in the force, latching onto the love she emitted and reciprocating it. They were thoroughly bonded, as well as any force sensitive and non-force sensitive could be.

“C-can you tell him what’s happening?” Isla’s tears had reappeared and Korkie was doing his best to mop them up.

“If you wish,”

“I do.”

Korkie glanced between the two of them. “Buh?”

“Buh.” Isla confirmed.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what that means,”

Baru cleared her throat from where she stood awkwardly in the doorway. “He’s trying to say Buir. That’s how most children start to say it.”

Obi-Wan looked back down at the child, his heart constricting in his chest at the reminder that he was to act as Korkie’s parent. He didn’t want to be a replacement for Isla, he had no wish for Korkie to resent him for trying to fill that space. But he would, it was out of his hands and he had already made the promise.

Korkie kicked at him, demanding his attention through the force. The boy had never met another force sensitive before, that much was apparent, and he was needy for the connection. Obi-Wan wrapped his shield’s around the boy’s mind, finding that Korkie relaxed considerably at the warm protection.

“What did you do?” Isla inquired softly.

“I extended my shields to protect his mind.” She nodded, but Obi-Wan could tell she didn’t fully comprehend it. It was taxing for force sensitive children to be around floods of emotion like the one Isla was drowning in at the moment. However much Korkie wished to bask in her presence and provide comfort, he had nothing to act a barrier when it eventually overwhelmed him. Obi-Wan suspected that it had been whiplash when he’d opened his force signature all the way upon discovering Obi-Wan was like him. It likely hadn’t been that free since he was born.

“Tell him please. I want him to know what’s happening and that he shouldn’t be scared.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan tried his best to convey the situation to Korkie, through brief emotions and images. Words wouldn’t work very well with the kid until he learned to speak. Obi-Wan would need to teach him all the half baked Mando’a he knew. Korkie absorbed the information and wrapped himself around Isla’s life force. It would do nothing, but Obi-Wan let him try. “He knows.”

Isla let out a shuddering breath. “Korkie,” She drew him from his fruitless mission to revive her health. “This is your new Buir.”

Korkie looked at Obi-Wan. “Buh?”

“That’s him.”

Obi-Wan placed a hand on the side of Korkie’s face, cupping his head. “I’ll leave you two alone for a moment.” Isla might not be alive when he returned, but Obi-Wan refused to impose on the precious time she and Korkie had left.

“Before you go,” Obi-Wan turned around and Isla smiled weakly. “Tell Baru you need the package.” She reached a hand out to grasp Obi-Wan’s. He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” Obi-Wan slipped closer towards the door before stepping out completely.

Baru looked up from across the room from where she’d been pacing and wringing her hands together. “Is she alright? I thought she had more time.”

Obi-Wan shook his head sadly. “She wore herself out coming to find me. It’s a miracle she lived this long.”

Baru frowned. “Is she entrusting Korkie into your care?”

“Yes.”

“That seems like a safe bet.”

Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh. “I’m not sure it is, but I won’t argue. She said you had a package-”

“Oh!” Baru exclaimed and hurried to a chest slid underneath a bookshelf right behind them. She dragged it out and looked at Obi-Wan expectantly. “This is for you.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward hesitantly. The box was large, made of a dark wood with golden hinges, edge clamps, and handles. He lifted the lid slowly, revealing the set of Mandalorian armor that sat unassumingly beneath.

“It looks like your size actually. And it has no paint, so it’s practically ready now.”

“What does the lack of paint mean?”

Baru shrugged. “New beginnings, a blank slate, that kind of thing.”

Obi-Wan hummed in acknowledgement. He certainly hadn’t planned to get a set of armor in the way he had, by getting rescued by the Duchess’s escaped sister-in-law and then getting custody of her son as she lay on her deathbed. “That fits.”

“Were you the one at the drop point?” Baru asked, taking a seat in the overstuffed chair next to the opened trunk. “Isla said that was where she was going when she left this morning.”

“Yes, that was me. Did they get the supplies?”

Baru looked up at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t know. I’m sure one of the bartenders across the way does. They always know that sort of information.”

“Do you know who I am giving the supplies to at least? I was under the impression- well, I heard the name Jaster when getting them from my supplier.”

“Jaster?” Baru froze before relaxing back into her chair. “Yeah, he’s the  the last I checked. I'm not completely certain at the moment though.”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to freeze. The  ? “You mean to say that the rightful ruler of Mandalore is trying to revolt against the Duchess and that I was their gun shipment?”

“Seems like it. Thank you for your service by the way. You’ve certainly done us a favor. The Old Mandalorians are the only ones who can actually take a stand against Kryze and her enforcers.”

Yeah, Obi-Wan was sure that the Republic and the Jedi Council knew nothing about this.

“Do you know where I can find them?” His mission had been to infiltrate and betray them, but now he was sure they were the only ones actually fighting for. When the Duchess had shot him out of the sky, Obi-Wan had lost any professional loyalty he had to her. Besides, Dex’s ask of him was more worth going through with.

“They usually find you.” It sounded like a warning.

“That’s not helpful.”

“I’ll see what I can find out. Maybe by tomorrow I’ll have some viable information.”

Obi-Wan smiled at Baru who returned the gesture placidly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The little reprieve they’d had, sitting by the still propped open trunk and the bookcase was quickly ended. Obi-Wan felt it before it happened, the force crying out. He jumped to his feet and was in an instant in the other room, kneeling by Isla’s side. She coughed weakly, her eyes glassy and arms limp around Korkie. Korkie clung to her, his pain and panic clogging up the force around them, doing nothing to stop the life seeping out of Isla’s sweat covered body.

Baru followed quickly after him, sliding into the room and narrowly missing a full body collision with the wall. Isla took in an unsteady breath, it sounded pained. She stared at the ceiling, seeing something far off, someone who wasn’t there. Obi-Wan stroked her hand and watched as she exhaled for the last time, her lips curling around a name. “Orsen.”

Obi-Wan hung his head, feeling her weak pulse go flat under his fingers. Isla was gone. He’d only known her for a day, but the loss was almost unbearable. 

Korkie let out a wail, trying to snuggle closer into his Mother’s side. He screamed in protest, rejecting the comfort Obi-Wan tried to offer him. Baru made a move to pull him away from Isla’s sickly corpse, but the boy resisted with all his strength, crying out like a wounded animal.

“Korkie,” Obi-Wan said softly, wrapping his hands around the boy’s wrists so his tiny fists couldn’t inflict the damage they wanted to as he lifted the toddler away from the death bed. It was a slow and painstaking task, but eventually he managed to pull Korkie away completely. Baru looked on at them with a pained expression, wincing when Korkie’s cries of distress grew infinitely louder.

Obi-Wan walked the two of them out of the room, bouncing Korkie in his arms and letting the boy beat against his chest in denial. He could feel Korkie trying to reach out and latch onto where Isla’s force signature once glowed. The boy was brimming with emotions, a tsunami of hurt and rage. Obi-Wan pulled him tighter, allowing the toddler’s physical aggression to work itself out.

It would be a long night and it was just beginning. Perhaps he could mediate while still keeping his hold on the distraught child in his arms. Obi-Wan hoped that he wasn’t naive in thinking that meditating would help calm down Korkie. The boy still had many stages of grief to move through, hopefully he could come to terms with the death of his Mother after a healthy window of mourning. Obi-Wan knew that it was always hard for the older children in the creche when they first arrived, they protested the loss of their parents by crying, refusing food, and not sleeping. He’d seen it first hand.

Usually the Creche Master let the children cry into their snot stained robes and wrapped themselves around the child’s mind in a protective way. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he would be able to provide the same level of expertise to Korkie, but the kid’s limited understanding of the world around him would certainly provide some ease as they transitioned into their new, cohabitative life.

Obi-Wan broke from his thoughts as Baru came out of the bed room and into his line of sight. He stopped walking in the circular path he’d been making, realizing suddenly that Korkie had settled down into the occasional sniffle and choked off cry, and that he’d been rubbing circles into the boy’s back.

“I don’t know how to care for children very well.” He confessed.

Baru looked like she wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all but quickly decided against the action. “It looks like you have it under control. He seems to like you more than he likes me.”

Obi-Wan winced. Korkie seemed to recognize what Isla had tried to tell him earlier. The boy looked up at him with red eyes and a wobbly lower lip. It would’ve been cute if the weight of the situation hadn’t once again been settling over Obi-Wan’s mind. Here was a child that was his to take care of for over a decade to come, a child to make sure was fed, clothed, and homed while he risked his life in missions for the Jedi Order. It was a dangerous paradox, one that he hoped he could find a way to navigate, and quickly.

“He’s mine to take care of now,” He whispered out.

Baru looked on at Korkie, his body slumped forward against Obi-Wan’s chest, the exhaustion from all of his sorrowful exertion catching up to him quickly. Korkie had been woken up from his sleep, fully opened his connection to the force, been warned of his mother’s fate, and then watched on in horror as she had left the land of the living.

“He’ll accept you as his Buir very soon.” She prophesied thoughtfully. “But I must warn you, he will be even needier than usual. Children at that age, well … they develop heavy separation anxiety from what I’ve seen.” She sounded sad, reflecting on memories Obi-Wan had no wish to inquire on. “He’ll be attached to you.”

“I just hope I can keep him safe,” For Isla, for the brief but bright flash of goodness she’d been in his life. He couldn’t claim to know her beyond the conversations they’d had and the secrets she’d revealed to him. But he could raise Korkie, as well as he could, giving Korkie bits of knowledge about where and who he’d come from, to cling onto.

“You won’t be out here. I know we are far away from other settlements, but they patrol. Isla blew her cover finding you, and Korkie is the only toddler in these parts at the moment.”

Baru moved to the kitchenette across from the entrance door. She pulled back simplistically patterned curtains and peered out of the window.

“I’ll go to the cantina tonight. I’ll find out where you need to go and who you need to find.” She turned to look back at him, her eyes full of determination and promise. “It’s the least I can do. You look after the kid, and I’ll get your information.”

“Deal.”

She nodded. “Good. I have an empty room upstairs you can stay in. I’ll call up the town medic before I leave and she can find someplace to put Isla’s body before the funeral.”

Obi-Wan swayed Korkie a little more. “Can you bring the crib up as well? Or do you think it better for him to sleep with me tonight?”

Baru looked back at the closed door to the bed room. “I think it’d be best if we left that room until the medic came.”

“Sounds good,” Obi-Wan was willing to have a learning experience with toddlers and how they went about daily activities. “Can you take us there now?”

“Sure, I’ll have the errand boy run up the trunk and all the toddler supplies. Isla didn’t bring much, but I’ve got some second hand items I’d be glad to give you. But I can’t promise you’ll be able to spread them out and get comfortable.” Baru made her way over to the trunk and snapped it shut. “The Old Mandalorians’ movements are a mystery, but I’m sure they have a strict timetable to keep.”

“I promise to be ready and on stand by.”

Baru gave him a disbelieving once over. “Let’s go get you a room. You’re going to need all the sleep you can get.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Obi-Wan watched as Korkie tried to drag himself closer in his sleep. Baru had been right, Korkie was already transferring his need for physical assurance and embrace to Obi-Wan. He’d split off for a while, crawling around on the wooden floor after Obi-Wan had struggled to feed him the warmed bantha milk brought up by the continuously bewildered errand boy. Obi-Wan felt bad for the mind wiping he would have to apply at the end of his stay at the inn.

Korkie continued to shift, his small fists finding a hold on the loose fabric of Obi-Wan’s sleeping shirt. Obi-Wan blinked away the tears threatening to form at the corners of his eyes and pushed thoughts of Isla away. He would not let himself regret her sacrifice. She’d done all she could in the name of korkie, and he was meant to do the same.

Obi-Wan let his mind drift back to the Mando’a classes and the late nights studying in the Temple. He’d need all of that knowledge now. Now to teach Korkie the language of his home world, now to be believingly accepted into the thralls of the Old Mandalorians clad in the unpainted armor of a dead Kryze, now to declare Korkie as his own-

He took in a deep breath and wrapped his arms around a clingy Korkie. The words slipped out of their own volition. “ .” 

He stared at the boy’s slacken face. He’d never planned for children, it was discouraged by the Jedi who always needed to be at the beck and call of the will of the force. But here Obi-Wan was, looking at the newest in the line of inheritance. The newest Kenobi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m honestly a bit distraught that I made Isla for the sole purpose of dying. I grew attached and that sucks ): , but hey! I got to advance the plot! Do you know how many articles I read on medical websites about toddlers mental and physical well being? No? Neither do i, but it was too many.  
> Baru is off brand Beru, you are absolutely right in your assumptions  
> I- I don’t know how children work ... this may pose an issue

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for OCs, its just that these characters are literally stock photos on the Kryze family tree so I have to compensate. I stole the names from an article title ‘100 hipster baby names that are effortlessly cool’ because I can’t control myself.
> 
> (Next chapter in a few days, I just gotta revise some egregious spelling errors.)


End file.
